


POPE IOANNES IN DANGER.  SEND REINFORCEMENTS. ALSO MOLTE PISTOLE.

by esteefee



Series: Pope John [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Blasphemy, Crack, Crossover, Established Relationship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, SGA Saturday Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ REFURBISHED. CHAOS ABOUNDS. POPE JOHN RECANTS. um.</p><p>Pope Ioannes is needed back at the Vatican. Oh, trickery!</p>
            </blockquote>





	POPE IOANNES IN DANGER.  SEND REINFORCEMENTS. ALSO MOLTE PISTOLE.

"You can't be serious," Rodney cried as he watched the former pope stuff his vestments into his duffel bag, gold and cream flashing everywhere.

Rodney couldn't believe John was leaving. It was unsupportable, when Rodney had numerous unfinished experiments with the orb still pending and also many sexual positions with John still left untested.

"I have to go, Rodney," John said, his brow set. He folded his mitre away more carefully and then wrapped his sacred orb in a piece of red plaid flannel and tucked it into the corner of his duffel. "I'm needed at the Holy See."

"I'm sure it's nothing. You know how hysterical Senor—"

"Monsignore—"

"Monsignore Tarantino is when he gets into the port."

John rolled his eyes and pulled out the crumpled telegram. "'Most Holy Father, please come at once. Stop. La malvagità è dappertutto. Stop. The Holy See trembles at the foundation. Stop. Only the light of the One True Orb will save us. Stop. PS: Please bring Duty Free French cigarettes.' Doesn't sound like hysteria to me."

"Maybe he's possessed?" Rodney said weakly.

"Riiight." John zipped his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Well, I'm off. Give my love to the Bishop and try to keep Sister Teyla out of trouble."

"You know she's teaching the O'Neill clone how to fly—"

"Yeah," John said with heavy bitterness. "Apparently he's 'pure' enough."

"She's totally biased."

:::

A plot. Of course it was a plot, a Trust plot, which Rodney only figured out after John had already left and was embroiled in the nastiness. Apparently the Trust had infiltrated the Vatican in order to lure John away. And with him, the Orb.

They had him imprisoned somewhere deep in the catacombs, and it was only thanks to a short message Monsignore Tarantino managed to get out before his tragic demise (a man really shouldn't die on the rack in this day and age) that Rodney even heard about it.

"POPE IOANNES IN DANGER. SEND REINFORCEMENTS. ALSO MOLTE PISTOLE."

Rodney, Bishop Ronon and Sister Teyla got loaded for bear, along with some of the SGC's very finest marines, including two explosives experts, one of whom who looked like a playboy bunny but whose eyes perked up at the odor of plastique, and Sergeant Siler, who insisted he be part of the extraction team.

"All right, men—and, er, woman—" Rodney said, "we're going in hot. Be, uh, ready on my six, nine, twelve and...three o'clock." He paused and gave them a stern look. "Stay frosty."

There was a rattling ratchet of guns being primed all around him—the sound echoed all around the apse—and then they charged down into the catacombs.

:::

Ronon promptly got them all lost.

"I thought you knew this place like the back of your hand?" Rodney griped.

"They've changed everything. Moved the rooms around. And everything is different colors. 'S weird," Ronon said, his face scrunched up in aggravation. "All the names are missing from the crypts so you can't even tell who's buried there."

Rodney shivered. "Well, keep trying. John's got to be down here somewhere. They wanted him for his orb..." Snapping his fingers, Rodney hauled out his work in progress, the Proto-Oromatic, meant to incapacitate all Priors within a twenty-foot radius. Of course, it first had to lock onto the Orb as a resonant resource, and then eventually it would take that energy band and amplify it. If Rodney could ever figure out what the hell kind of rays the Orb was emitting.

However, the lock was functioning, sort of—at least it could feasibly work as a locator—

"There! I have him. Well, the Orb, in any event, is approximately thirty meters in that direction." Rodney looked up when silence greeted his revelation, and discovered he was pointing at solid rock. "Ah. So, find us a way around?"

Ronon grunted something that would surely earn him a few "Hail Mary"s at his next confession, and led them down a fork to the left.

:::

"Those...are not...monks!" Teyla's cornette had been shot off, and her wimple was decidedly wrinkled.

"Just keep firing! We're almost there!"

:::

"You know, I didn't vote for you; what gives you the idea I'm going to be your Holy Vessel? And, yuck, by the way. I didn't mean that the way it sounded, Kinsey."

Teyla made a glad noise, immediately squelching it with her hand, and she squeezed Rodney's shoulder in warning when he almost bolted forward at the sound of John's voice echoing down the narrow corridor. Ronon peered around the corner and then signaled back with two fingers.

"You'll do as I tell you, Sheppard. I've waited a long time for this. Now, make the light burn in the Sacred Chalice so I can drink and become one with my destiny."

"I think your destiny is pretty much self-fulfilling, asshole."

There was a loud, rattling creak, and then John gave a stifled groan.

Ronon bared his teeth.

"Fascinating, these devices," Kinsey said airily. "You'd think the Church would have gotten rid of them after that Inquisition debacle. But I guess they wanted to keep something in reserve. Just in case." There was another creak, and then a clunk.

John yelped.

Ronon dropped his fist, and they all charged forward, Rodney in the lead, the sleeve of his robe dropping away from his gun.

:::

"Ow. Ow. Ow."

"Stop being such a big baby," Rodney said, tugging the rope fibers from John's skin.

"I was on the _rack_ , Rodney."

"Yes, well, that's why they call it torture."

There was silence while John stared at him in disbelief, and then, fortunately, Teyla came over and from somewhere beneath her habit produced a salve, which she gently slathered on John's wrists, giving Rodney a glare he utterly failed to interpret.

Meanwhile, Ronon was pacing back and forth within the small chamber, grimacing occasionally and swinging by Kinsey to boot him in the ass. Since Kinsey was bound and gagged on the floor, he couldn't do much but utter a muffled grunt, but it did serve to make John smile a tiny smile each time.

"Ronon," Teyla chided. "Have you learned nothing in your time at San Tanco?" She stood gracefully and walked over to them. "You must arch your foot for a better toe point." She demonstrated, delivering a swift kick to the meat just below Kinsey's butt.

Kinsey howled into the gag.

"The Sisters of San Tanco almost made the World Cup last year," Rodney informed him with satisfaction.

"What're we going to do about this place?" Ronon said abruptly. "They messed it all up."

"I think I can help with that, buddy," John said. "I just need to get the Orb into the Basilica di San Giovanni."

"Well, not all the changes are bad," Rodney said, ignoring Ronon's glare. "I like some of the colors."

"So, we'll keep the good stuff, put back the stuff we miss," John said.

"No nameless crypts." Rodney shivered.

"Not a chance." John raised his arm to give Rodney a pat, and winced theatrically. "Ow."

"Yes, yes," Rodney said, "tortured." He started rubbing John's shoulders, and John gave a happy little sigh, then tilted his head.

"Hey, do I look taller to you guys?"

:::

So, John used the Orb to restore the Vatican to its former glory, the fire lighting his hands and burning through him, out and then down, the ground shaking with the force of it as the foundation changed under their feet.

Then they all hopped on Teyla's puddlejumper for the flight home, the marines bitching that they hadn't gotten to blow anything up.

"Did you, or did you not, get to shoot multiple Trust agents with impunity?" Rodney said, glaring them down.

"Yes," Lieutenant Ford said sullenly.

"Then none of your lip. We're bringing home a very naughty ex-vice president in chains—" Ronon had found some nicely rusty ones in the catacombs. "—and we'll be back in time for Friday Fish Night. I think we're having poached salmon."

But first, Rodney thought as John slumped against him and Rodney surreptitiously rubbed his nose in John's ridiculous hair, a visit to Tiberius' Reliquary was in order.

And then, Position #22 on Rodney's personal list of "Is Pope John Really That Flexible?"

Surely, after his time on the rack, well—let it not be said Dr. Rodney McKay didn't know how to take advantage of life's opportunities.

 

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> * La malvagità è dappertutto. -- "Evil is everywhere."
> 
> [Pope John Masterlist](http://esteefee.livejournal.com/69844.html).


End file.
